my face. I went home and threw out all the makeup—except the caviar, which I ate. Then I got sick because it apparently had been farmed for beauty, not eating.
Ladon returned with a sack of food and two stone clubs. Katus pulled the rope, forcing me along behind them. I pried my wrists, subtly trying to pull my arms apart with all my strength. The rope groaned, but didn’t snap. If I could stretch it loose, maybe I could pull free, grab one of those clubs and—
“Don’t,” said Katus. “I’ll tie you to a rock and leave you there. The king won’t know the difference.”
I glared at him, but said nothing, knowing he could very well do that if he wanted to.
So I followed, trailing at the end of the rope. We left the city behind and crossed the empty wilderness.
Several times, I promised to swim without fuss if they let me go. To my frustration, they were smart enough to distrust me.
After our first breach, I discreetly tried to work my arms through the rope again. But it was bound too tightly and, before long, my arms were chafed in the effort.
Then we reached open water, and I had to stop struggling to keep up. We swam at high speed the whole way, breaching every few strokes.
I hated the open water. In every direction was nothing, nothing, and nothing. Ripples and sound carried for leagues, so a ghostly symphony played against my senses the whole way: the long, low moan of a grey whale, the clicks of a pod, a groaning tanker, and a blend of vibrations I couldn’t identify. They might have been schools of tuna, giant squids, or humans, for all I knew.
At one point, we passed close to a pair of orcas. We gave them a wide berth because they were the transient kind—dead silent and mean, with a taste for big bait like seals.
Few things could kill merpeople. The only way a human had done it was by using iron. Merpeople had also managed to kill each other for millennia. Being chopped to pieces in the jaws of a whale or shark also did the trick.
That was the only time I was thankful to be with Katus and Ladon. The whales noticed us, slowed down, seemed to think about giving chase. But there were three of us, and those mermen might have had scum for brains, but they were too brawny to be whale food.
The encounter wouldn’t have gone so well if I’d been alone. Though I could outswim a whale, the pods had clever hunting tactics, and they surrounded and killed mermaids more often than anyone cared to admit.
Finally, the floor grew shallower, and sand became rock. The water tasted sweeter in the presence of coral, anemones, and fish. Pulses grazed my skin from a nearby octopus. The city would be close, now.
I tried to relax the knot between my shoulder blades. Our trip through the open left me as twitchy as a guppy.
The guys stopped and I bumped into Katus. Ladon smacked me away with his spear.
I peered between them. A guard floated upright, a stone mace wrapped in his webbed fingers. More treaded on either side, stationed out of sight but close enough to feel. We’d arrived at some kind of border.
I glanced around, feeling my surroundings. Guards to either side. Shallow, rocky bottom. Empty ocean behind and in front.
How was I supposed to get back home if I had to cross a military line?
Ladon pulled out a roll of rawhide.
“Royal guardians on a transport order,” he said, puffing himself up.
Could I risk the empty ocean alone? Maybe not, but if I didn’t flee now, I might not be able to once we crossed this border. I tensed, preparing to jerk away from Katus’ grip. If I could catch them by surprise, disappear into the distance, maybe I’d find something sharp to slice—
A sharp blow on the back of my head made a rainbow of lights pop in my eyes.
“I swear,” said Katus, “I’ll knock you out and drag you.”
I snarled at him, the back of my skull throbbing.
The guard grunted. He slapped the roll of rawhide back into Ladon’s chest without bothering to read it. I wondered if he could